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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22628377">Femslash February 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyfeanor/pseuds/actuallyfeanor'>actuallyfeanor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Easterlings, F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:22:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22628377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyfeanor/pseuds/actuallyfeanor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My drabbles/stories written for this year's Femslash February, using the <a href="https://silmladylove.tumblr.com/post/190609335439/hello-darling-followers-you-know-what-month-it">prompts made by @silmladylove on Tumblr</a>.</p><p>(1) 9 February - "Inkâ" (North): Two Easterling women flee their homeland, where Sauron has risen to power.<br/>(2) 16 February - "Zîr" (Wise): Galadriel thinks about Melian when she sails west at the end of the Third Age.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Galadriel | Artanis/Melian, Original Female Character/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. To the Edge of Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>9 February - "Inkâ" = North</p><p>Since Tolkien offers so little information about the various peoples and cultures grouped together as "Easterlings", I've had to fill in the blanks with a little bit of One Thousand and One Nights, a hint of Ancient Egypt, and some names generated by an <a href="https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/lotr-easterling-names.php">Easterling Name Generator</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They take the fastest horses from the stables when they flee, a spirited mare whose coat is the colour of the desert sands and a dapple grey gelding that moves with the grace of a flowing river. As though they understand the need for secrecy, the horses barely make a sound. Still, Inuz holds her breath until they are well out of earshot of the city. The night air is cool, but she expects it will get even colder further north and thanks her own foresight for the warm clothes in the saddlebags. North. That is where they must go to escape this shadow that has fallen upon their people, this sorcerer-king who demands tithes in human blood and is served by the spirits of the dead. He is preparing something in his dark fortress in the Land of Shadow; Inuz has never seen it for herself, but she has heard tales from those who have. A great tower, overlooking dead plains where no life can grow. And yet her people have allied themselves with this man - if he can even be called a man - trusting his promises of land and riches. When she first heard, Inuz wanted to scream in frustration. <i>Can you not see that he is lying to you? Can you not see the evil that trails in his wake? We have all the land we need here, the bountiful river valley, the lone sands where a rider can chase the wind and the sun and be truly free.</i> But there are few who believe as she does, and now a war is coming, a war with the sea-kings of the west in their white towers. So Inuz flees north, leaving friends and family behind in Temur, and yet she cares little for what she leaves behind. For Dîna is by her side, her lovely dark hair glinting in the moonlight as she urges her mount forward with the easy grace of someone who has spent her life in the saddle. Dîna - poet, dreamer and one of the best riders in all of Temur besides. <i>Love of my life, I hope we reach a land where we can live in peace.</i> As though Dîna can read her mind, she turns to Inuz.</p><p>“We will make it. As long as we are together, we will make it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Into The West</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>16 February - "Zîr" = Wise</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the mallorn leaves fall, I think of you. With every footstep on the gold-strewn ground, I think of you. There are ages and seas between us, and yet with every wind from the west, it is as though you are here with me, treading the paths of Lórien by my side. You taught me patience and endurance when all I wished for was to live gloriously recklessly. A queen should live for her people, you said. Power is responsibility, not glory. But in the end you left, for love and grief, abandoning your people to the darkness. I cannot say I blame you. I have tasted love in all its flavours, sweet fruit and bitter ash, and the intangible taste of summer rain that is somewhere in between the two. We call it affection, esteem, fondness; we dress it up in borrowed clothes for polite company, doing our best to conceal the currents beneath the surface, the unstoppable tidal wave that will sweep us off our feet if we let it. Your hands tangled in my hair, your lips brushing against mine in the summer rain; oh I wanted nothing more than to let go, let myself be swept away in this maelstrom of pure <i>being</i> and <i>yearning</i>. Yet I found love in other places, in the steadfast loyalty of him who chose to walk by my side for three Ages on this Earth, whose love was no less powerful for being a calm forest pool to your roaring sea. And still, here at the end, staring into the sunset with a west wind touching my cheek, it is not his face I see, but yours. The sail unfurls above me, catching the breeze and carrying me closer to you. I am coming home.</p>
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